


The Red Band - Part 1: The Talks

by EmilaWanKenobi



Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-20
Updated: 2014-05-20
Packaged: 2018-01-25 20:23:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1661297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmilaWanKenobi/pseuds/EmilaWanKenobi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An adolescent Obi-Wan is discovering his sexual side, and Qui-Gon wants to</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Red Band - Part 1: The Talks

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## The Red Band - Part 1: The Talks

### by Emila-Wan Kenobi

 

Feedback: Oh, give it to me, baby ... [emila_wan@yahoo.com](mailto:emila_wan@yahoo.com)

Archive: M_A. Also available at <http://www.jediphiles.com/index69.htm>

Category: First-time, Angst, Chan

Rating: NC-17 

Spoilers: none 

Series: The Red Band

Summary: An adolescent Obi-Wan is discovering his sexual side, and Qui-Gon wants to help by talking about it.

Disclaimer: George Lucas is da man. He owns everything. We just play.

Warnings: Explicit homosexual sex scene between two minor-age boys, other implied underage sex, adult masturbating in front of minor.

AGE 14:

"Padawan, I think it's time we discuss your sexual urges and how best to deal with them," said Qui-Gon.

Obi-Wan suppressed a very un-Jedi-like blush and a mental moan of anguish. Had his recent problems been that obvious? He'd been foolish to think he could hide anything from a Jedi Master, especially not one that shared a Bond with him as Qui-Gon did. At times he fervently wished his Master weren't so ... so practical and straightforward about everything. He wished he would just give him a datacard and ask him to read it, as Kelv's Master had done. (And Kelv had let all the other Padawans in his class read it, too, to their great amusement.) But no, with Qui-Gon as his Master, Obi-Wan found his every thought, his every move fodder for discussion, examination, and dispassionate analysis until sometimes he just wanted to scream.

Qui-Gon slapped a large, strong hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder and clamped down. "You are fortunate, Padawan, that you have a Master of the same sex and species. I, too, was once a 14-year-old boy. I have not forgotten how painful and awkward this time can be. Rest assured I understand and sympathize." He exerted gentle but steady pressure until Obi-Wan reluctantly let himself be pressed into his customary chair at the small dining table/desk in their common room. "Now, sit, and let's talk about what you're feeling and some techniques to help with your control and shielding." Qui-Gon took his hand away and very gracefully took his place across the table from his apprentice, raising his eyebrows expectantly.

The silence stretched into a minute, two. Qui-Gon had not lost his expectant look. At last Obi-Wan could bear it no longer. "I don't know what you want me to say, Master."

"I'd like you to tell me what you're feeling, physically, emotionally. I want to help, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan concentrated on not fidgeting. He held his gaze steadily on his lap. "I ... must we? This is awfully embarrassing ..."

"Allow me, then," Qui-Gon said with a touch of amusement coloring his voice. "Your body is filling out with thicker muscles, longer bones, sometimes aching from the rapid growth. You're sprouting hair in unusual places. Your voice is deepening, yet sometimes it squeaks at the most embarrassing moments.  Your penis has grown, too, and it hardens instantly at a stray thought or a glimpse of flesh, or perhaps for no reason at all. You're finding yourself very grateful for the long Jedi tunics that hide your discomfort, but you can't always hide your interest when you see a pretty face or a hard nipple shifting underneath a layer of clothes."

"Master!" Obi-Wan did blush, then, and felt his cock stiffen just from the idea of a hard nipple.

Qui-Gon suppressed a laugh, grinning instead as he sat back and eyed his Padawan mischievously. 

"The communal showers have become a nightmare for you, because you're terrified one day you'll have an erection and someone will see it and either laugh at you and tell everyone, or hit you because he thinks it's for him."

"That's true enough," Obi-Wan muttered under his breath.

"You wake up some mornings with a wet stain on your bed and the memory of doing things in your dreams that you __know__ are against the Code, not to mention at times anatomically impossible."

Obi-Wan looked up at that. Was it possible his Master had the same sorts of dreams?

"You've been kissed before, but that was when you were younger, before your body and mind seemed to conspire to betray you, and now you can't stop thinking about what it might feel like to have somebody's mouth on yours, somebody's hands running over your body ..."

Obi-Wan whimpered softly, and Qui-Gon had mercy enough to stop his teasing.

"It's okay, Obi-Wan. Every human male has gone through this. There is nothing to be embarrassed or ashamed of."

"Easy to say, Master. I doubt you've ever --" Obi-Wan stopped, gulping in shock at what he'd been about to confess.

Last week there had been an "incident," as Obi-Wan liked to think of it. One of the Padawans in his astro-nav class, a vivacious 17-year-old Twi'lek named Mrinda, had approached him for tutoring. She freely admitted she was terrible in math and was taking the course for the third time. Obi-Wan, of course, had been glad to help, but when he'd shown up at her Master's quarters for their tutoring session he quickly discovered she was not at all interested in calculating coordinates. He'd had no time to recover from the sight of all that blue skin in nothing but a workout bra and shorts before she had him up against the door, kissing him. The rush of arousal had nearly knocked him off his feet, and the feel of her tongue penetrating his gaping mouth was enough to make the top of his head come off. Without relinquishing the kiss, she had taken his hands and placed them on her breasts. He felt the nipples harden under his callused palms, and that was all it took. With one incredibly long, violent spasm, he came in his pants. He had fled, mortified, hearing the echoes of her laughter even after her door slid shut again. He hadn't attended that class since. His friend Reeft had agreed to take notes for him, loyal enough not to ask the reason why.

"Ever what, Padawan?" Qui-Gon wrinkled his brows, then relaxed again and laughed. "You name it, if it's embarrassing I've probably done it. You can ask Master Yoda if you like. He had no end of trouble trying to understand why I was going through so much laundry. Or why I was avoiding my physics instructor."

Obi-Wan grinned weakly. "Is that what this is about? You heard I was skipping astro-nav class?"

Qui-Gon just looked at him. "You are?"

"Oh, uh ..."

"Padawan, that's part of the reason for this talk. I don't want your embarrassment or discomfort to interfere with your studies, and I certainly don't want it to interfere with our missions. Need I explain why a stray thought or action could make the difference between life or death -- for both of us?"

"No, Master. I understand fully. Please ... I ... I do need your help. I just don't know where to begin."

Qui-Gon sighed. "It will be years yet before you fully understand the meaning of the Code: 'There is no passion, there is serenity.' To be frank, I'm not sure I understand it myself. But there is a certain truth to it. Until you can master your emotions and your sexual response, you cannot be a Knight. Just as a Jedi cannot let anger or hate or fear rule him, so too must passion be conquered."

"But how, Master?"

"When you feel fear, what do you do with it?"

"I accept it, let it go, turn the energy into enthusiasm, action, determination, whatever I need at the moment."

"Has this always been easy for you?"

"No, Master. It's still not easy, not sometimes."

"Yet you have progressed, have you not, with meditation and practice?"

"I should like to think so."

"So it is with passion. I will show you some new meditations on serenity, plus a few ways to channel that energy into something else. Mostly we'll be working you out so hard you have little strength left to move by the end of the day."

"Yes, Master. Although I'm not sure that will help." Obi-Wan grinned, finally relaxing a bit under his Master's practical acceptance of the situation.

Qui-Gon nodded thoughtfully. "I hope ..." He looked down at his hands for a moment, then back up, and Obi-Wan realized his Master __was__ a little flustered after all. "Your body is your own, and you alone must decide ... nevertheless, I urge you to wait until you're older before you engage in sexual intercourse. I don't believe you're ready for the kinds of complex emotions it entails, both for yourself and your partner. I know some of the Padawans your age are already experimenting ... you __have__ had the class on this, haven't you? I'd hate to think ..."

"Oh, yes, Master," Obi-Wan said readily. "Two classes. One on galactic anatomy, and one on responsibility. Instruction about everything from prophylactics to technique to commitment to chastity. They emphasize chastity a lot."

Qui-Gon expelled a pent-up breath. "In my day that was __all__ they taught." Then he cocked his head. "Technique?"

Obi-Wan laughed. "It was pretty embarrassing, actually."

"I'll bet."

"Master ..."

"Yes?"

"I __am__ still a virgin. Just in case you were wondering."

Qui-Gon reached across the table and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'm glad, Obi-Wan. Don't be in a hurry. It's so much better if it's with someone you care about."

"I know, Master. I will do my best. But sometimes its all I can think about. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. This is the time of life when the urge for sex is at its highest. I will show you a few ways to dissipate your arousal when it comes, and to hold off ejaculation so you don't embarrass yourself. There are pressure points to use, and certain mental images you can develop that may help. Plus, if you're not already doing so, masturbation is an excellent way to take the edge off your insistent libido."

"Will you teach me the best way to do that, as well?"

Qui-Gon looked sharply at his apprentice, then relaxed as he saw the amusement in those blue-green eyes. Oh, but this boy was such a clever, winsome lad, a bright light to warm his later years. "Be careful what you ask for, Obi-Wan," he teased.

Belatedly, Obi-Wan remembered that his Master liked to call his bluffs. "I am sure I can figure it out on my own, Master. No need to bother yourself."

"No bother," said Qui-Gon, and stood, stepped forward. He worked the fastenings of his trousers and slipped them down to fall over the tops of his boots. "I always say hands-on learning is the best kind."

His Master's tunics covered him to mid-thigh, but even the implication of his nakedness sent a jolt of something not-quite-fear through Obi-Wan's hyper-sensitive body. He squashed a surge of anger at his Master's teasing. "Please, can't I just have a datacard or something," he muttered, not knowing which way to look: down at his Master's bare knees, up to his Master's amused blue eyes, or forward at the front of his Master's tunics which were even now swaying as Qui-Gon pumped one fist at his crotch, bringing his imposing organ to life not a meter from his apprentice's scarlet face.

Obi-Wan wished a convenient earthquake would come and swallow him whole.

He had seen his Master naked, of course, on many occasions. He'd been intimidated at the man's sheer size, not to mention the size of __that__ part of him, but Qui-Gon had patiently explained that Obi-Wan still had a lot of growing to do, in __every__ area, and that to compare himself to others was always a bad idea. Even so, the occasional glance of his Master's morning erections through the thin sleep pants he wore made Obi-Wan feel childishly inadequate.

Obi-Wan swallowed a surge of bile. Why was his Master so cruel?

Qui-Gon seemed to sense Obi-Wan's changing mood, and his grin faded. "Padawan," he said quietly. "Forgive me. I have been teasing you. I only mean to show you the pressure points and how they work. You will not touch me, nor I you. Please, I don't mean to make you uncomfortable."

Obi-Wan nodded, breathing deeply and letting his fears or whatever it was that was bothering him sink into the Force. He turned clear eyes on his Master and willed himself to be calm. This was, after all, just another necessary lesson, a vital bit of training. He should be thankful for it.

Quickly and with quiet dignity Qui-Gon demonstrated on his own body how to press the points beneath the scrotum to quell an erection. His own turgid member subsided in seconds, leaving him flaccid. He pulled his pants on again and sat. "You see? And besides the physical methods, you can develop mental pictures. This varies with the individual, but for me the thought of riding a speeder that turns into a giant lightsaber blade has always been effective."

Obi-Wan winced.

Qui-Gon went on, "And of course, there's always ice -- ice in your rectum, maybe."

Obi-Wan laughed despite himself. "How about Yoda naked on a mountain of snow?"

Qui-Gon slapped the table. "That's good, but be careful. My Master can pick up whenever you're thinking about him."

"Hmm. Instructor Jenks kissing a Hutt?"

"Whatever works, Padawan, whatever works."

They sat in companionable silence. After a moment, Qui-Gon stood abruptly. "If you have no questions of me? To the meditations, then. We'll work on shielding first."

Obi-Wan rose and followed him to the mats. Yes, Instructor Jenks and a Hutt had been a __highly__ effective image.

Obi-Wan grinned.

The next day he got up the courage to attend astro-nav class again. He avoided Mrinda's gaze and sat in the back, but he couldn't avoid her as she caught up with him afterwards, shouting his name.

He stopped, folded his arms in his cloak, and waited for her to catch up, putting on his best Sabacc face.

"Obi-Wan!" She was smiling fondly, and touched her hand to his arm. "Can we talk for a minute?" The blue lekku twitched on her shoulders in agitation.

"What about?"

"Not here in the hall. How about over a fizz in the cantina?"

"No thanks." He started to walk away.

She lunged forward and grabbed his arm. "Obi-Wan, look. I just wanted to apologize, to explain. I'm really sorry. And there's something I think we need to discuss. I'll buy."

He turned in her grasp, sighed. He could sense her sincerity. "All right, Mrinda. Lead the way."

They had settled across from each other with matching purple fizzes before she spoke again. "Obi-Wan, I owe you an apology."

"Maybe I owe you, one, too, Mrinda. I obviously didn't give you the kind of evening you were expecting. Although I did provide you with a good laugh." He grinned, covering his embarrassment at the remembered humiliation.

"I'm sorry I laughed. That was ... well, I __do__ like you a lot, Obi-Wan, and I'm sorry I made you feel bad."

"That's okay."

"Though it's your own fault for putting out false signals," she said teasingly.

He cocked his head. "False signals?"

"The brown band. Whatever possessed you to wear it that day? Don't you know how many Padawans have been waiting to see that on you? I thought myself lucky I got to you first." She took a look at his puzzled face and saw her suspicions confirmed. "It was an accident, wasn't it?" He shook his head, clearly confused now, and she continued. "You don't even know what I'm talking about."

"I'm sorry, no."

She reached across and picked up his braid, rolled it in her fingers. "I see you're wearing the white band again now."

"I always wear a white band. It's standard issue, like everything else I wear. So what?"

"That day you didn't. You wore a brown one."

Obi-Wan cast his mind back to that day. He still didn't understand what the bands had to do with anything, but clearly it was important. He remembered waking up later than usual that morning, showering in haste, still fastening his clothes and boots as he tried to hurry down the hall to class. He'd not wanted to go back to his room for the hair tie, had grabbed his Master's brown one from the sink as he ran out the door.

"Yes, I picked up my Master's tie. So what?"

"It's a code, Obi-Wan. Nobody's told you about it?"

"No. Please, enlighten me."

"All the Padawans know about it. How could you ... oh, you've been away from the Temple since you were chosen."

"Since before, actually. I was shipped to AgriCorps. Master Jinn only agreed to take me after I was already gone."

"Still, he should have told you."

"Told me what!?" Obi-Wan was growing exasperated now.

She sighed. "It's a code, a shorthand the Padawans use. All the Initiates wear white, and the younger Padawans. Anybody who's still a virgin and wants to stay that way for the time being."

Obi-Wan's eyes widened. "Go on."

"And the different colors have different meanings. Blue means you're interested in playing the field and dating, nothing too serious. Yellow means you're looking for a committed relationship. Red means you're spoken for, unavailable. Green is if you want only a same-sex partner, orange if opposite-sex only, purple if you're interested in experimenting with other species, black if you like kinky or dangerous stuff ..."

"And brown?"

She grinned. "Brown means anything goes. Strictly pleasure, with whatever or whomever is interested."

"I see." For a moment he was horrified, and then his sense of humor kicked in and he laughed. "Does that mean my Master ...?"

She laughed, too. "No, I don't think the Masters need a code for that sort of thing. The Padawans adopted it years ago, to save a lot of time and heartache. I'm surprised your Master didn't mention it to you."

"We've been busy."

"Yeah, well, just watch it, Obi-Wan."

He grinned, took her hand across the table. "Thanks for explaining it, Mrinda. You're a good friend to have."

She placed her blue hand on his pale one. "Should we be doing this, Padawan Kenobi? You're still wearing white."

"And will be for a while yet," he said almost apologetically.

"Good for you," she said, and rose. "I still need help with my triangulations, though."

He stood. "Sorry, I've got a mission briefing with the Council in half an hour. I probably won't be around for the rest of class -- I'll most likely have to finish it in the field."

"Master Jinn's in high demand these days."

"Yes." They parted, and he watched her go, lekku and hips swaying, doing delicious things to his libido. But with Qui-Gon's help he was gaining control over even that part of himself, enough to enjoy the view without discomfort. Obi-Wan reached down and fingered the white band at the end of his braid. He sighed and headed for the tower.

AGE 15:

Many months later, Obi-Wan found himself on the outside of a set of sealed doors, isolated from his Master and the important dignitaries negotiating yet another delicate treaty to end a civil war on a planet halfway to the rim. Fharrha, he remembered, and rubbed his eyes. He was on his own, free for the day, although with Qui-Gon as his master he was expected to make the most of his free time by studying, practicing, observing the locals, and generally making himself as useful as possible both to Qui-Gon and to anyone else who looked like they needed help.

He wandered outside and breathed in the humid air. This planet was temperate, at least on this part of the world, and the air seemed to have more oxygen than normal. Obi-Wan felt very strong and alive. A sun with a bluish cast shone down on his uplifted face. He grinned. It was good to be here, good to know his place in the galaxy, good to have Qui-Gon as his Master, good to be a Jedi.

A red-haired human boy about his age struggled past him, hunched over porting a large travel trunk on his back, supported with one hand, and dragging another heavy trunk up the steps. He grunted with the effort.

Obi-Wan lurched forward to help, taking the second trunk easily from the boy's hand and lifting it on his back. 

"Thanks, friend," the boy said, and grinned at him. The grin eased the pained lines on the youth's face.

"My pleasure," said Obi-Wan, and it __was__ a pleasure, he realized, to be helpful to someone in need. The contentment he'd felt moments before only deepened. "I'm Obi-Wan."

"I'm Sedjik," the boy said. "My father's the Irradi ambassador. I'm working for him right now." He grunted as they reached the top of the steps and he set his burden down. "He says manual labor builds character, so I couldn't use the droids or the repulsor carts."

Obi-Wan laughed. "Sounds like my Master. 'Why use the lift if there are perfectly good stairs? Your legs need the exercise, boy. And it will burn off some of that excess energy.'"

Sedjik laughed, too. "You're not from here, obviously. You talk of a master. Are you a slave?"

"No, just an apprentice. My Master's mediating the talks." He avoided saying he was Jedi. The revelation often intimidated or offended people, he'd realized sadly. Ignorance and superstition still plagued much of the galaxy. Best to establish trust first, and only later reveal his "dirty secret."  

"Oh, good," said Sedjik. "Once I get these trunks to our rooms, I could show you around. That is, if you're free."

"I'd like that," Obi-Wan said. He lugged his trunk through the front door and followed Sedjik to his rooms.

They spent the day together. Obi-Wan checked in with his Master from time to time, but Qui-Gon seemed content to let Obi-Wan enjoy his new friend without burdening him with assignments. They explored the museum district of the city, enjoyed a boat ride on a broad lake, sampled the local food which Obi-Wan found delicious, and found themselves back at the government center late in the afternoon. The talks were still going on, and might last for hours yet. Qui-Gon told Obi-Wan to enjoy his evening but to be inside by dark. With an uneasy truce not yet formalized, the city might still be unsafe at night.

As dusk deepened, Obi-Wan found himself restless for exercise. Sometime along the way Obi-Wan had revealed himself as a Jedi, and Sedjik had been curious without being overawed. Now he felt comfortable enough to say, "I need to practice my katas. Is there someplace I can work out?"

"There's a gym on the roof," Sedjik said easily. "I'd like to go, too. They have showers and everything. Let's get our stuff and I'll meet you there."

"Great!" Obi-Wan went to the room he and Qui-Gon were sharing and gathered up his workout shorts, a bottle of water, a towel, and his bag of toiletries. In no time he was stretching and bouncing barefoot, testing the spongy workout floor with delight. With nothing but the sky above him, the planet's lower-than-standard gravity and this springy floor, he should be able to turn quadruple flips if he wanted to.

He was doing just that when he heard Sedjik's laughter from the doorway. The room was dimly lit, and he could see the lights of the city below them, casting Sedjik's form in silhouette. The boy was fit, dressed as Obi-Wan in short workout pants, and as he watched, the youth began to limber up and move through a series of slow, stretching katas very similar to Obi-Wan's routine. He's obviously had training, Obi-Wan thought.

They worked separately for a while without speaking. Then, as if by tacit agreement, they came together and began a light sparring. Sedjik was good, strong, and well trained, but Obi-Wan still had the luxury of concentrating on his form as he clashed with the other boy, feinting and jabbing, using holds and flips, mentally noting the useful moves from his opponent's differing discipline. The fighting escalated in intensity. Obi-Wan saw fire in Sedjik's pale blue eyes and a grim, determined smile on his freckled face as the boy tried to pin him to the floor. Obi-Wan struggled, not wanting to use the Force against this opponent, and was stunned almost beyond thought when Sedjik bent down and took his mouth in a quick, questing kiss. The contact sent a jolt of lust through him, and he realized the boy's hot, sweaty body was pressed against his from mouth to shin.

Obi-Wan froze for a moment, then exploded off the floor, leaving Sedjik dazed a few feet away. Obi-Wan looked down at him, panting. "What was that?" he croaked.

Sedjik scrambled backwards on his butt. "I'm sorry. I did not mean to offend. It's only that you are so strong and so beautiful. Please, please forgive me. It won't happen again."

Obi-Wan could barely believe it when he heard his own voice say, "Suppose I want it to happen again?"

The boy was on his feet in a flash. They were almost the same height; he didn't have to reach to press his lips to Obi-Wan's, this time lingering and deepening the kiss. Obi-Wan felt himself respond as if from a great distance. It must be the air, he thought, or the gravity making my head light. Because he didn't resist as Sedjik propelled him toward the showers and stripped him, didn't resist as Sedjik licked the sweat from his neck and chest, turned the hot spray on them, lathered their bodies with soap, stroked every inch of Obi-Wan's skin with almost worshipful sensuality. He was grateful the boy took the lead, inexperienced as he was, but he felt no awkwardness, only an incredible need. He found himself returning the kisses and caresses, nipping that pale, freckled skin, running his hands over the taut flanks. They stroked each other's slender erections with soap-slick hands. Sedjik dropped to his knees and took Obi-Wan in his mouth, suckling eagerly. Obi-Wan had to cling to the wall to keep from falling. He had never imagined such pleasure was possible, the hot, tight suction driving him nearly out of his mind. His knees gave out as he came, but Sedjik grasped his hips and turned him, pressing him against the tiles, pressing a slicked finger into Obi-Wan's now-relaxed opening and stroking something that turned his insides to fire. Another finger pressed inside, stretching him, but he was already hard again and past caring about a little pain if only the boy would keep going, keep going, pressing something stiffer and bigger and hotter into him, and oh, yes, he was being filled and it was so good, so very good to be taken like this, the boy's hand snaking around to stroke him in time to his thrusts, and oh, yes, yes, he was pushing back, onto that wonderful fire inside him, thrusting, thrusting, crying out violently as he came and a liquid heat gushed between his legs and they sank to the floor, hot water pounding down, gasping, utterly spent and almost giddy with revelation.

They found their feet, cleaned up and dried off on shaky legs, gathered their things, and headed back down the stairs. The boy was quiet, and Obi-Wan's head was filled with so much wonder and conflicting feelings that he couldn't speak, either. They kissed at Sedjik's door, Obi-Wan murmured a demure thanks, then found his own room, his own bed, sank down upon it and slept like a dead man.

The talks concluded that night. They shipped out the next morning, and Obi-Wan did not see Sedjik again.

After they entered hyperspace on the way to their next assignment, Obi-Wan went to his Master. In the cold of space, with stars streaking past, he looked back on his encounter with a vague disquiet stirring in his gut.

Qui-Gon was sitting on the edge of his bed, taking off his boots and rubbing his face tiredly. Obi-Wan rushed to help, then sat down and turned his Master so he could knead the tight muscles along the older man's neck and shoulders. "Was it a long night, Master? When did you get to bed?"

"I didn't." He moaned. "That feels good, Padawan. No, the talks went on until dawn, but only because everyone could sense we were near to an agreement and wanted it to be done. Myself most of all. The Council needs us on Farafall, so I couldn't even stay for the formal ceremony. No matter, both sides were firmly committed by the time I left. It will be well for them now, I think."

"Master ..." Obi-Wan hesitated. He wasn't even sure what to ask, or even what was bothering him.

Qui-Gon seemed to understand, and did not turn around but only uttered a soft, "Yes, my Padawan?"

"I was wondering ... You told me once that sex was better when you are in love. Is it so wrong to enjoy sex if there is not love?"

Obi-Wan could hear a smile in his Master's voice as he answered. "Not wrong, no, as long as both people have the same expectations. It's only wrong if someone gets hurt. But the human heart is a complex thing, and sometimes we can't predict how we'll feel until after the deed is done. That's one reason I thought it best that you wait until you're a bit older." As the silence stretched, he said, tentatively, "Would you like to tell me what happened?"

"Master. I ... I'm sorry. I know you told me to wait, but somehow last night I found myself doing things ... letting things be done to me ... it was as if I'd switched off my mind or something. I hadn't planned on it happening. And now I feel guilty, yet I can't point to anything in the Code that tells me what I've done is wrong."

"The Code cannot answer every question, Obi-Wan. These are matters of the heart. As a Jedi, you must learn to trust your instincts and listen to the Force to know your path. In this case, you are feeling guilty. Why do you think that is?"

Obi-Wan continued to knead Qui-Gon's muscles, grateful his Master did not turn around to look him in the eye with that penetrating gaze. "I don't know. Partly because I feel I've disappointed you, I guess."

"You could only disappoint me if what you'd done was unfeeling or hurtful. Was it?"

"No, well, maybe. I ... he gave me a lot of pleasure, and then I left without saying goodbye. I guess it __was__ unfeeling."

"Even though I take it you had made no promises to each other, even as far as a promise to say goodbye before you left?"

"No, but still ... it feels wrong, now."

"What, Padawan? Wrong to leave without saying goodbye, or wrong to have casual sex with an acquaintance?"

"Both, I guess."

Qui-Gon turned then, and his eyes were full of affection. "Obi-Wan, I sense that you are much like me in this regard. Although I find sex extremely pleasurable, I'm not interested in having it with someone I don't love. I think you have discovered the same thing about yourself. Am I right?"

"I suppose so, Master. At least, this does not feel right to me. I have never been in love, so I don't know if __that__ will feel right, either."

Qui-Gon laughed. "Oh, it will feel right, Padawan. If it is love it will feel so right you will wonder how you ever lived without it."

"But how do you know it's love? I mean, I think I felt love for Sedjik. Or perhaps I could have, given more time ..."

"Well, first, you can't truly love someone you don't know well. Many people think they're in love, but they know next to nothing about the object of their affection."  Unbidden, the image of Xanatos's face arose, smugly triumphant, as he cast his Master's love back in his face. Oh, yes, he had been a fool to think he knew that young man at all. Qui-Gon relentlessly squashed the thought and went on. "That's not real love, it's lust -- or infatuation. Real love means you've seen the person at his or her worst and yet you have no urge to turn away or hide from that reality. Another mistake is equating physical pleasure with love. You can have great sex with a stranger. But real love means you're more interested in the other person's pleasure than in your own. If you can find someone who shares your values, with whom you share deep affection and respect, mutual desire, a willingness to sacrifice for the good of each other ... that is rare, but true and good. And to also share in the Force is a gift beyond compare." Qui-Gon knew he would never know that kind of trust with another lover. He would never be able to give of himself that deeply again. It should have made him sad, but that part of his heart was so scarred it might as well have been dead.

Obi-Wan looked down at his hands, feeling shy. "Have you ever been in love, Master?"

Qui-Gon shifted and stood, disengaging himself from Obi-Wan's grasp. "Of course," he said a little too quickly.

"But not now?"

Qui-Gon paused for a moment. "I hardly think my love life is cogent here, Obi-Wan."

"Of course not, Master. Forgive my presumption." Obi-Wan stood and with as much dignity as he could muster, left the room for his own quarters.

Qui-Gon watched his Padawan's stiff gait and silently shook his head. "Force help me," he said to himself.

Obi-Wan spent the next few weeks meditating on what he'd discovered. His first revelation was that sex was pleasurable beyond his wildest imaginings. His only experience had been with masturbation, and while that was satisfying on a certain level, he realized it was like having field rations compared to the sumptuous banquet that was a warm, living partner. 

His second revelation was that it felt really, really good to be wanted. He thought about what Mrinda had told him, that other Padawans had been waiting eagerly for him to change the color of his hair band, and it gave him a warm feeling. The Jedi discouraged pride, and he was careful to avoid that, but it felt good nonetheless to be desired in that way. 

His third revelation came later, after he had tied a blue band to his braid and sampled the many generous offers that came his way. He was gaining experience, and he almost always managed to remain friends with his partners, mostly by keeping himself emotionally aloof. But after a time he realized Qui-Gon had been right. He was not one to give his body without wanting first to give his heart.

He pondered wearing the white band again, but everyone knew he was no longer a virgin. He chose instead to wear yellow, but it didn't take him long to be dissatisfied with his choice. There were far fewer Padawans interested in a committed relationship. A handful of females approached him (for there were no other males near his age wearing yellow), but he quickly realized it was unkind of him to lead them on when he had no interest in tying himself to any of them. His own heart seemed suddenly an alien thing to him, and he found himself meditating more frequently on the subject of love and desire, seeking but not finding serenity. 

His fourth revelation was slower in coming, but when it did, it rocked his world. 

He __had__ found love, he realized. But there was nothing he could do about it. He loved Qui-Gon Jinn.

He suffered in silence for more than a month, not daring to reveal his thoughts to anyone. Instead he worked on his shields, worked on his controls, and reached a sort of equilibrium where he could endure almost constant physical and emotional contact with his Master without allowing himself to feel anything.

If Qui-Gon noticed his withdrawal he said nothing. Obi-Wan's training didn't suffer. In fact, he was sublimating so much emotion into the Force that he was able to use the energy to best his Master a few times in sparring, to his secret delight.

He meditated constantly, seeking an answer. He knew the Code: he could not approach a Knight or Master until his coming of age, which was nearly six years away. He was expected to remain chaste or seek out someone his own age. He wasn't expected to feel true love yet; he wasn't thought to be mature enough even to understand the concept.

But Obi-Wan thought back to what his Master had told him about love. How you knew the person at his worst and still respected him, how you valued his pleasure above your own. He knew, even now, that his deep caring and affection were just as much true love as anything anyone twice his age could feel. Perhaps more so, because he found he was on fire, consumed with longing, whenever he allowed himself the luxury of feeling anything at all. Often at night, when his Master was asleep, Obi-Wan would finally drop the mask from his emotions and let himself indulge in thinking about what it would be like to be held in those strong arms, not just to soothe an injury but to arouse and caress. He thought about the ways he would touch, the places he would kiss, the things he would do to pleasure his Master. The thoughts invaded his dreams, and he again found himself shame-facedly stuffing his sheets in the laundry more often. Yet this time he would not, could not, seek answers from his Master. This time he must face his questions alone.

AGE 16: 

He might have gone on that way indefinitely if not for their mission to Pradhu Province on Abynndi. The troubles had started with a kidnapping gone bad, a murder, an assassination, a coup, a riot, martial law and finally a purge in an attempt to quell the masses and complete the succession of power by a disgruntled general. It was a common enough scenario, but in this case the province just happened to be rich with a particularly pure form of magnetic ore used in generating repulsor fields, and the Senate deemed the general too unstable to be allowed control of such a strategic resource. Obi-Wan could read all this between the lines of his official briefing, which spoke only of the Senate's resolution to stop the purge and end the oppression of sentient rights in Pradhu through establishment of a stable government.

In essence, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were expected to somehow walk in, wrest control of the government from the military and either give it back to the theocratic rulers who'd held sway for generations or set up popular elections. It was a tall order for two Jedi, one of whom was still an apprentice, but the Council did not refuse the Senate's request, and they had been sent. Obi-Wan held the private opinion that they were not expected to succeed, that in fact some other agenda was being played out. He only hoped they would not be killed while providing a diversion for whatever was __really__ going on.

They almost succeeded anyway.

The purge had solidified support behind the remaining son of the slain ruler, and resistance cells were already running strong by the time Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan made contact with him. Most of the soldiers did not agree with their general's decisions, and it was simple enough to turn the majority of them against him once the Jedi produced proof that he had bargained with Offworld Mining Corporation to enslave the locals -- including his own men -- and sell the ore, pocketing a substantial kickback for himself. They had, however, completely underestimated the general's vindictiveness. Only a flash of Force-induced horror in Obi-Wan's future-sense alerted them, and after a frantic search the Jedi found themselves disabling a crude but powerful thermal detonation device deep in the mines.

It was too much like their first mission, in the mines of Bandomeer, only this time no simple magnet could stop the bomb, and the stakes were much higher -- fully ten million beings would die if they failed ... including one very noble Jedi Master and one lowly Padawan who loved him with every ounce of his being.

Qui-Gon sank himself deeply into the living Force and sought to understand the device. Obi-Wan willed his hands not to shake as he obeyed his Master's instructions to ground here, snip there, don't touch that, wait, now, slowly, slowly. Obi-Wan swore to himself, as sweat ran down into his eyes and the seconds ticked away, that if he lived he would tell Qui-Gon of his love. It didn't matter that it might not be returned, that it might not even be credited as real. But by the Force,  Qui-Gon would __know__. Obi-Wan could die happily if only Qui-Gon __knew__ he was wanted, __knew__ he was loved. That would be enough.

Or so he'd thought at the time.

They'd had to fight their way out of the mines, carrying the disabled bomb as evidence. They got it to their ship through a crossfire they couldn't completely deflect. Qui-Gon patched himself up as Obi-Wan took off with no time for a preflight check. They very nearly didn't make deep space when an overtaxed ion engine blew, but with the help of the Force and Obi-Wan's excellent piloting skills they avoided the land-based batteries and limped into hyperspace. As the stars elongated into  welcome streaks they settled back to breathe and assess the damage.

"Status," said Qui-Gon, still winding a bacta-soaked bandage around his singed forearm. 

Obi-Wan swiveled the pilot's chair to give him a sunny grin he didn't feel. "Two Jedi, more or less alive, one bomb, more or less dead, one starship, hovering somewhere in the middle. Oxygen levels adequate. Fuel levels dodgy -- I think we're leaking from that blown engine. Radiation levels far beyond acceptable limits. I think that thing --" he pointed to the boxy case of the bomb "-- is emitting some serious rads. Unfortunately the only shielded room is the engine compartment which at this moment is probably vented to space."

Qui-Gon sighed and sank into the co-pilot's chair. "I suppose we could jettison it out the airlock."

Obi-Wan considered it for a moment. "We could, but it might be useful as evidence. It's not going to kill us anytime soon, and the damage will be treatable, assuming we make it to Coruscant."

"Assuming we make it to Coruscant, I'm going to take that thing and ram it down the Council's throats for sending us on this mission."

Obi-Wan had never heard his Master speak so vehemently or casually about the Council. He felt as if he were being allowed one step deeper into his Master's full trust, and the thought warmed him.

"One more item to report," he said casually.

Qui-Gon was leaning back, his eyes closed, already bringing the Force to bear in healing his injuries. "What is it, Padawan?" he sighed.

"Just that I love you."

"Ah." Qui-Gon smiled, eyes still closed. "I love you, too, Obi-Wan."

"No, Master." Obi-Wan stood and leaned down to brush his mouth very softly against those curved lips. "I mean, I __love__ you."

He turned and made his way back to the medical supplies, intent on treating his own injuries, and so he missed the look of startled pain that crossed his Master's face before he composed himself and sank fully into his trance.

Obi-Wan had thought it would be enough just to say it, to let it be known. But now he knew that wasn't nearly enough. Two days had passed, two days of slowly, desperately crawling toward Coruscant and home and healing, and Qui-Gon hadn't said a word.

Oh, he'd talked enough. They'd taken turns writing up their report, examining the bomb components, researching and investigating as much as they could given the onboard databases. It had become clear they were pawns in some sort of elaborate political game, and Qui-Gon was not shy in espousing his rather vocal and scatological opinions about __that__. The rest of the time they meditated, taking turns using a healing trance to fend off radiation sickness.

But nothing was said of Obi-Wan's revelation, and after a time he felt himself growing more and more angry and hurt. At last he couldn't stand it a moment longer, and as Qui-Gon brushed past him in their tiny bunkroom he erupted.

"Aren't you going to say anything?"

Qui-Gon stopped, turned slowly toward him. "I beg your pardon?"

"Don't be obtuse, Qui-Gon."

The Master's face grew stern. "You forget yourself, Padawan."

Obi-Wan felt a sharp ache spread through his chest. Tears stung his eyes, and he turned away. "So that's how it's going to be, then," he said softly. He felt Qui-Gon's hand on his shoulder, and he hunched forward, trying to hide. 

"How else can it be, Obi-Wan?" When his apprentice didn't answer, Qui-Gon continued. "I wanted to tell you that I'm honored, that I'm flattered, but I knew it would only sound like condescension to you. And the truth is that even if I returned your feelings I would not tell you so. You know the Code as well as I."

"It's not as if you've never broken the Code," Obi-Wan whispered, thinking: You break it for everyone else, but not for me. I'm not good enough, I've never been good enough.

"Yes, but in this case I happen to think the Code is right. You are too young; your emotions are not yet fully settled --"

Obi-Wan whirled at that, suddenly furious. "Blast it, Qui-Gon, don't you know me well enough by now to take me seriously?"

Qui-Gon ignored this second breach in protocol and answered calmly, "I know you are a serious and intense young man with more maturity than most your age. And I know you think you are in love --"

Obi-Wan's bitter laugh cut him off. "You think it's only infatuation, that I'll grow out of it. But I tell you I would never have said anything if I weren't sure of my feelings." 

"I don't doubt your sincerity, Obi-Wan ..."

"Stuff sincerity!" Obi-Wan clenched his fists, then willed himself to relax. This was __not__ how he'd planned to behave. He took a deep breath. "Master, I ... please forgive my outburst."

Qui-Gon was quiet for a while. Finally he sighed. "I apologize if I've hurt you. I thought I was prepared for this, you know, the standard speech to one's apprentice when one finds one's self the object of an adolescent crush."

"This is much deeper than that," Obi-Wan said calmly, and held up a hand when Qui-Gon started to say more. "I know you don't believe me, but I'll find a way to show you ... I don't want anyone but you. I'll never want anyone but you. I swear to you, I'll wait as long as it takes for you to realize I'm ready."

"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said slowly, "I will not hold you to that promise."

"It doesn't matter; I'll keep it anyway. But don't worry, I won't mention this again. I won't let it interfere with my training." He strove hard to keep the bitterness from his voice and almost succeeded.

"Very well," said Qui-Gon. "I think once you know real love you will look back and laugh at what you are feeling now." He held up a hand to stifle Obi-Wan's continued protests. "If it is truly love, as you say, it will stand the test of time." He turned and walked away, mentally cringing, knowing he'd handled the whole thing badly but at a loss to know what else he could have done. He sighed. Obi-Wan would grow out of this infatuation soon enough. After all, Qui-Gon was an old man, and a hard taskmaster at that. Even true love might wither under the uncompromising obedience demanded of a Padawan to his Master.

They entered Coruscant's orbit the next day and had to be tractored to a hangar for repairs. The healers took charge of them and pronounced them relatively fit, prescribing a bit of rest and some anti-radiation pills. The Council commended them on their work and then informed them that the general was going to be allowed to rule Pradhu Province after all.

And once they finally got back to their quarters, Obi-Wan found a red band and tied it onto the end of his braid.

END Part 1.


End file.
